A Cold Fish
by PensievePrince
Summary: Fluffy one-shot. Set in the Christmas holidays of Hermione's Fifth year. Snape reluctantly attends a Christmas dinner at Grimmauld Place hosted by the Weasleys. Hermione tries to engage the aloof professor in a bit of seasonal whimsy.


**A Cold Fish**

Christmas dinner at Grimmauld Place was a rowdy affair. Larger and more opulent than the Burrow, Sirius had let the Order of the Phoenix use the headquarters for everybody to have a festive get-together, organised by Molly Weasley. They all trooped into the dining room to sit at the magically extended table; Arthur had spent the morning transfiguring old bits of junk into chairs for everyone, some of which looked more comfortable than others. The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched in amusement to see that Ron's seat didn't have a single leg the same length as another, causing him to wobble precariously whenever he reached across the table to help himself from the bowls of roasted vegetables.

Remus and Sirius seemed to have Charmed each other's paper hats to grow slowly larger and larger until they were slipping down their faces and over their eyes. They were both grinning broadly like schoolboys, and still managing to shovel their dinner into their mouths more or less accurately despite being unable to see either the cutlery or their plates. Making up for lost years of friendship, she thought. The two men certainly had a heart-warming relationship; picking back up where they left off after all that had gone on. Someone who _didn't_ look particularly warm of heart was Professor Snape, who must likely have been badgered and coerced into coming by Molly she thought. Picking silently at his food in the corner of the room, he looked like he'd rather be anywhere than there at that particular moment in time.

Arthur Weasley stood up to make a speech about love and family and working together to persevere, trailing off now and then due to having indulged in rather too many Butterbeers during the afternoon before Molly had served the food. Eventually he sat down, beaming around the table at everyone.

"Crackers, everyone! I got Muggle ones this year - let's see what toys you all get!"

Harry was much in demand showing the youngest Weasley children how to pull a cracker – apparently Wizard ones pulled themselves – and the table was a raucous scuffle of people shouting at each other and comparing the various little plastic and metal trinkets that erupted onto the tablecloth, falling randomly into plates and cups all over the place. Hermione glanced around to see that there was one person who hadn't pulled a cracker yet - too much like fun, she supposed. Picking up a spare one lying near her plate, she reached across the table and waggled it politely but insistently under Snape's nose.

"Professor? Will you do mine?"

Looking slowly up from his meal, Snape very deliberately put down his knife and fork, before raising a hand to grasp the other end of the cracker firmly. His eyes bored into hers, unreadable. She almost gasped as he withdrew his arm suddenly, and had to clamp her fingers down hard onto the shiny cardboard to avoid it slipping out of her hand. The cracker went off with a weak "pfft" and she was left holding the short end. Snape broke eye contact with her, glared at the remaining bit of cracker in his hand as if it was something that had just thrown up on his boots, and placed it dispassionately on the tablecloth next to his plate before picking up his cutlery again and resuming his meal in silence.

Not one to be easily beaten, Hermione took a deep breath in, and asked slightly more chirpily than was necessary, "What did you get, sir?"

"Miss Granger?" he didn't look up from his dinner.

"Your toy, sir - what was it?"

Snape inhaled even more deeply than she had, closing his eyes momentarily. Deciding he clearly _wasn't_ going to be able to eat in peace until Hermione's curiosity had been satisfied, he put his utensils down again and picked up the cardboard tube, tipping it in one smooth motion out onto the table beside his wine glass. He poked at the assorted bundle of bits of paper, elastic bands and plastic-y detritus that emerged.

"A fish, Miss Granger."

"A fish?"

"Yes Miss Granger, a fish. Don't tell me that with your _years_ of extensive magical education, that you are familiar with many such varied creatures as Grindylows, Hippogriffs and Werewolves-" he shot a vicious look down the table in Lupin's direction, "-but have no idea what a _fish_ is? Clearly Hagrid needs to adjust his syllabus(!)" he drawled.

If Snape expected her to shrink from his meanness, he was disappointed. Away from the classroom environment and in such a relaxed domestic setting as they were at the current moment, Hermione felt far less intimidated than she might otherwise have done if he had insulted her in front of a dungeon full of sneering Slytherins. Grinning at him, she leaned forward and picked up the small strip of red plastic that was on the table. Snape's hand withdrew reflexively as hers approached; he hurriedly moved it to his glass and picked it up, cradling the stem between his long elegant fingers, face impassive as he swirled the ruby liquid around, his hard black pupils staring at her all the while.

"Oh I love these!" Hermione exclaimed, smoothing out the small translucent red fish shape between her fingers. "They're supposed to read your mood. Not a particularly impressive trick for wizards I know; I expect half the people at this table are probably mind-readers!" she laughed.

Suddenly Snape spoke, voice low and sinuous, "The mind is not a _book_, Miss Granger, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. It is a complex and many-layered thing. Or at least, _most_ minds are." The obvious strength of his feeling on the subject surprised her slightly.

"Nevertheless," he continued, "it's an amusing little diversion I'm sure. For Muggles."

Hermione suddenly thrust her arm out, proffering the flappy plastic fish towards the professor. "Go on then, sir. Let's see."

Snape raised a disdainful eyebrow at her, then sighed slightly.

"Very well. It's Christmas, after all - I shall indulge your curiosity in this feeble charlatanry. I fear you'll be sorely disappointed though; it's merely an inert and unremarkable bit of plastic with no special powers of divination."

He rested his elbow lazily on the table, twisting his wrist fluidly to present his hand, palm up. Hermione, still grinning, leaned forward over the table towards him once more and delicately placed the rather incongruous toy into his outstretched hand, careful to avoid actually touching the professor himself, and taking the opportunity to pick up the bit of paper with the instructions on that had fallen out of the cracker with the rest of the bits. She sat back down, watching intently.

The little red fish remained motionless in Snape's hand for a moment and just as he was about to sneer something triumphant at her, a tiny motion caught his eye. The fish's tail started to gently curl up towards its body.

"Moving tail?" she glanced at the scrap of paper in her hand. "Independence!" she chuckled to herself lightly. "Obvious really..."

She tossed the bit of paper back in Snape's direction. It tumbled and twisted as it flew, heading off-course and straight for a large gravy boat, before being snatched from the air. Snape still had the fish in one hand, and scrutinised the instruction sheet witheringly before moving to place both back on the table.

"Wait a minute sir, it's still moving!" Hermione caught his attention. Sure enough, the little red fish was still curling - the tail had folded itself completely up as far as it would go, but now the head was moving too. Once both ends had met in the middle as far as it could go, it ceased to move.

"It's curled up – what does that mean?" she asked.

Snape glanced back at the paper momentarily, then his eyes darted away abruptly, his face expressionless. He cleared his throat, then took a long sip of wine.

"Sir?" Hermione prompted.

Snape suddenly pushed back his chair, placed his cutlery together on the plate and got up to leave the room, pausing only to nod curtly to Mrs Weasley as he passed.

"Thank you, Molly. I must be going." The Weasley matriarch turned in her chair and put her hand out to touch him lightly on the forearm in acknowledgement.

"Oh Severus, are you sure? There's dessert later! Never mind - we'll see you again soon, once Dumbledore's been in touch to let us know what the plan is for next week. Merry Christmas my dear!"

And with that he was gone. Reaching over to pick up the cracker toy, Hermione scrutinised the paper for her answer.

"Moving head, no… moving head and tail, no… Aha! Curls up entirely - passionate!"

Further down the table, Harry and Ron snorted at her.

"Like 'e said 'Mione - s'just a load of Muggle rubbish." Ron still had a mouthful of potatoes. "Even a Muggle could tell Snape doesn't have an ounce of passion in him – you'd need to have a soul for that I reckon for a start!" The boys laughed together.

Harry added with a careless shrug "Maybe he's passionate about not washing his hair?"

Hermione shot them both a disapproving glare. "Well if you're just going to be nasty..."

"Hermione, I wouldn't worry about hurting his feelings, he can't hear you. And anyway, Snape's spent the last five years being nasty. Probably longer!"

Ron reached over and snatched the paper from her fingers.

"No movement… dead. Reckon that would be more accurate! Bet you a Galleon, Snape jinxed it under the table to get it to move. Good job it wasn't 'moving head and tail' though - that's '_in love_', gross! Can you imagine Snape in love with someone?! Whoever it was would probably die from embarrassment!"

"Yeah, I think I'd jump off the Astronomy Tower!" giggled Ginny, sitting next to Harry, "Wouldn't you Hermione?"

"Mmm..." Hermione pushed a few remaining cold sprouts around her plate, staring unfocused at the remains of her meal, deep in thought.


End file.
